


Most Ardently

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Classical Music, Depression, John is also tired, John/Francis is an abusive relationship so don’t expect much from it, M/M, Psst they’re not subtle at all, Yyyyo I'm about to die, alex is tired, i don't know how to tag, like always, literature references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-03-02 11:37:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18810124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Alex is tired of feeling empty and lonely, and John is tired of being hurt and tossed around.





	1. Chapter 1

Alexander sighed, gloomily trudging into the hotel building. He had been at a local bar as an attempt to rid himself of the lingering emptiness that constantly followed him. Of course, he just had to pick a fight. Some idiot had been bothering a group of girls for the whole thirty minutes that Alex had been in the bar for and when he started groping one of the girls something in Alex snapped.

So here he was, in a dingy motel that he'd been staying at for the past few days with a black eye and a bleeding fist. He was alone in the lobby except for a suspicious-looking man standing around and ogling him with some strange look in his beady dark eyes. He was wearing a black leather jacket, a stained white shirt, and tight black jeans. He had big and burly arms, and they reminded Alex of snakes. Alex tried to ignore him and walk to the elevator, but he felt a large hand grab his arm.

"Hey, kid, you interested in havin' a good time?"

Alex's heart skipped a beat, startled by the gruff and deep voice of the man. He turned and was met with the very intimidating face of the stranger. He had short jet-black hair and a crooked nose. It took Alex a moment to realize that he had just been asked a question.

"W-What do you mean?" Alex asked, cursing himself for how unsure his voice was.

The man chuckled a little. "You know what I mean. How old are you, kid?"

"Um. . . twenty-one," Alex choked out, still sounding unsure. He was actually nineteen and had just turned it a week ago, but lied just for the sake of it.

"Alright. Well, it's fifteen bucks for anything less than two hours and thirty for -," He was cut off by his phone going off. He fished it out of his pocket and stared at the illuminated screen for a moment before turning back to Alex. “Oh, never mind. My girl is busy tonight, so the deal’s off - unless you’re okay with the boy?”

Alex had to pause for a second. He really didn’t care that it was a boy instead of a girl, but hooking up with a random person wasn’t something he usually did. He put any logical thoughts telling him to decline the offer aside and put his desperation for any kind of human contact first.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll do it.” He felt as if he had swallowed sandpaper. “Who do I pay?”

The man smiled, and Alex’s gut churned. He had a very unnerving smile. “The boy. What’s the room number?” He asked, tapping something out on his phone.

Alex rummaged through the pocket of his coat, searching for his key. He took it out and checked the number on the white tag attached to it.

“Twelve thirty-five,” Alex said.

The man’s smile grew, and Alex was pretty sure his stomach was about to crawl up out of his throat. “Uh huh. He’ll be up in fifteen,” he informed, and sauntered out of the lobby.

Alex took the silence as a moment to think back on the events of the past few minutes. He had no idea whether this boy had any diseases or something, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He really wasn’t in the mood to hook up but it would be nice to talk to someone for the first time in way too long.

He shook his head as an attempt to clear his head and stepping into the elevator, hugging himself tightly. Taking out his phone, he checked the time. It was only around nine, but Alex felt more tired than he had in a long time.

 

Alex’s head snapped up, frightened by the sudden knocks on his door. He had been sitting on the edge of his bed with his head resting on his palms, checking the time every twenty seconds or so. The boy was exactly seventeen minutes late. He was frozen for a moment, but he forced himself to get up and placed his hand on the doorknob. He didn’t know why he was so nervous, but he still felt as if his stomach was tying itself into a knot.

He turned the knob, and standing in front of him was a very, very beautiful boy. For a moment he looked just as uneasy as Alex felt, but the expression was quickly replaced by a blank face. He had dark and curly hair, and his face was littered with freckled. His eyes were a deep shade of hazel.

“Hi,” he said curtly. “Are you the guy Francis was talking about?”

“Um,” Alex said eloquently, assuming Francis was the man in the lobby. “Yeah, I am.” He stepped out of the doorway. “Come in.”

He quickly walked in, standing near Alex's bed. He took off his sweater, which was way too thin for the cold weather outside, and looked around. He was wearing a light blue short-sleeved shirt, which gave Alex a chance to stare at his body. He was skinny, a bit too skinny.

“So, what’s your name? Francis didn’t mention it,” Alex asked, trying to start a conversation. He really was feeling too depressed to hook up, so he tried to hold it off for as long as he could.

“John,” he said. “Hey, do you have the money?” John turned to Alex, his face still blank.

Alex noticed bags under John’s eyes but said nothing about them. “Is it okay if I pay you afterward?” He didn’t even know whether or not he had enough money but asked anyway.

John shook his head. “I don’t care.” He then abruptly turned away towards the window and took off his shirt, dropping it on the bed. Alex tried not to blush, but his efforts were fruitless.

“Do you have any rules? Like, no hickeys or something?”

John actually looked a bit surprised, as if he wasn’t used to the question. “Uh, no. I don’t have any rules.” Any trace of emotion was quickly wiped off his face, and he looked back at the window. “Can we go now? I have to be somewhere.”

“Don’t you want to talk for a little?” Alex didn’t realize how stupid the words sounded until he said them. “Do you really have something to do?”

“You’re pretty strange, you know that?” His brow quirked a little. “What do you want to talk about?” He sat down on the bed. He still looked uncomfortable, but not as much as when Alex first saw him.

"I don't know. Uh. . . how was your day? Did you do anything fun?" Alex bit his lip, hoping he didn't come off as too desperate. He sat down with him but kept some distance between them. He felt as if a sudden movement or an unexpected touch would make John flinch and hide under the bed.

"Yeah, you're really strange. I didn't do anything special today." He looked at his feet, his expression almost sad. "What's your name?"

Alex smiled to himself, proud that he'd gotten him to say something. "Alexander, but you can call me Alex. Don't call me Alexander, it's weird." John looked young, really young. Around his age. Too young to be stuck with a job like the one he had.

"Noted," John stated. "Hey, Alex, are we going to do anything tonight? You don't seem like you want to." He stared at Alex with his big, hazel eyes.

Alex looked away and bit his lip. He really didn't know how to say that he had just wanted someone to talk to and was not in the mood for anything related to sex without making John mad.

"Alright, I guess that's a no. Do you have a watch on you?"

"Uh, yeah," Alex said, surprised that John wasn't mad at him for wasting his time. He took his phone out of his pocket and showed John the time. It was around 9:40.

John's face crumpled - it looked as if he had been reminded of something unpleasant. "Alex?" He sounded nervous, scared almost. "Um, is it okay if I stay for a little longer? Just, like, an hour or so. I swear I'll leave. Francis. . ." he trailed off.

"Yes, yes, of course!" Alex said earnestly. "I don't mind. Stay as long as you want." He didn't like how anxious John seemed.

"Okay," he said, sounding relieved. "Okay, thanks. Can I sleep for a little?"

"Sure, why not?" Alex smiled, trying to comfort him. He immediately flopped down and curled up on his side, pulling the blanket over him. He didn't seem to care that he still had jeans on.

"Thanks again," he said, his voice tired and muffled.

Alex just noticed the feeling in his chest - it felt as if his heart was about to burst. For the first time in a while, he felt something real.


	2. Chapter 2

John ended up staying for much more than an hour.

Alex hadn’t been able to sleep after John had just flopped down on his bed and started snoring lightly, so he stared at John and reflected on the mess he’d probably gotten himself into until around 3 in the morning, the time at which Alex got too tired to stay awake and fell asleep on the armchair. He decided that he shouldn’t wake John up, mostly because he didn’t like the bags under his eyes (and because Alex didn’t want to be lonely again).

John didn’t seem very happy when he woke up at exactly 9:53 in the morning.

“Alex?” He mumbled groggily, slowly getting up and lifting the blankets off of himself. “What time is it?” John had woken up when he heard the sound of a door shutting. Alex had just gotten back from a nearby deli and had two sandwiches - one for himself and one for John. He figured it was the best way to apologize to John for wasting his time. However, Alex, the master of impulsive decisions, now had no money and couldn’t pay John.

“It’s almost ten,” Alex told him. “You slept a lot. Twelve hours.”

John’s eyes widened. “What? Shit, why didn’t you wake me up? Francis is gonna kill me, oh God. . .” He shot up and grabbed his shirt, slipping it over his torso. “Where’s my sweater?”

“Here,” Alex walked over to his tiny desk where the sweater was and held it up. “Why do you have to leave? What’s Francis going to do, anyway?”

He glared at Alex. “It’s none of your business,” he snapped, snatching the sweater from Alex. “I said _one hour_. That’s all I wanted.”

 Something about that set Alex off. “I didn’t mean any harm! Francis just seems really suspicious and you don’t look very eager to see him. Besides, you should’ve seen yourself last night, it looked as if you hadn’t slept in weeks and I didn’t want to - “

 “Just shut up! It doesn’t matter if I seemed tired, I said one hour and for some reason, you interpreted that as twelve. And in trying to save me from Francis or whatever, you’ve made it worse!” John actually looked as if he was about to cry.

 Alex tried to say something, but he was cut off again.

“And why would you even call me if all you wanted to do was talk? Were you really that lonely?” He sounded angry, but Alex could detect a trace of sympathy in his tone.

 “Yes!” Alex exploded. “I am lonely! That’s why I called you here!”

 John stared at him silently. Alex felt as if every inch of his body was exposed under his gaze.

 “Fine,” John huffed. “Fine, whatever. Sorry that you’re lonely, but it’s no excuse to waste my time _and_ get me in trouble like this. Do you at least have my money? You owe me forty-five.”

 Alex’s jaw dropped. “Forty-five?! Francis said, like, fifteen!”

 “What, now you’re lying? Sure, he said thirty for anything over two hours” (he was cut off by an unnecessary _Ohhhhh!_ from Alex), “but I’ve never done anything this long. He’ll want extra.”

 Alex pursed his lips, unsure of how to say, _Hey, I had some money but I used it on apology sandwiches_ without making John mad.

John was quiet for a moment before his eyes landed on the sandwiches in Alex's hand. His eyes narrowed. "Oh, you better not have used your money on fucking sandwiches. Alex? Answer me! Do you have the money?"

"Uh. . . maybe?" Alex croaked.

 John plopped down on the bed and dropped his head into his palms. "That's it. I'm screwed, Francis is gonna murder me. I should have never came here."

 "Hey, hey, John," Alex sat down next to him on the bed. "It's okay. We'll figure something out, alright? Don't worry."

 John squeezed his sweater tightly, looking up at Alex. "There's nothing I can do. Just give me as much money as you can afford and I'll. . . I don't know. I'll figure it out."

"Okay," Alex sighed and got up. "Okay, sure." He walked to his coat and searched through all his pockets for all of his money. He managed to gather $25 in all but still felt as if it wasn't enough. Before handing John the money, Alex put his hand on John's shoulder slowly John's head shot up.

"You don't have to go back to Francis. You could. . . stay with me, maybe?" Alex scratched his neck. He figured he would have to elaborate, judging by the way John eyed him as if he had grown another head.

"Like, I don't mean to sound creepy or something, but I could use some company and it seems like it would do you good to get away from Francis. Not to be nosy or anything, it’s not my business but I can’t help but - “

“Alex.” John cut him off. “I appreciate your offer, really,  but I can’t. I’m not going to burden you like that, and besides,” he stared at his lap, “I don’t mean to offend you, but I don’t know you. You could be a serial killer or something. Francis will find a way to track me, too, and. . . it just won’t work. Sorry.”

Alex looked genuinely offended. “I’m not a serial killer!”

John giggled, and Alex’s heart stopped. He could light up a room with that laugh. Alex felt accomplished for making him smile.

“That’s not what I meant,” John said. “Either way, I can’t. I’m really sorry, you seem like a nice guy.” He got up and put on his sweater. “Thanks for letting me sleep here. I’ll leave you alone now. Thanks again.” He hesitated, almost as if he didn’t want to leave, but began to walk towards the door. Alex stopped him by grabbing his arm.

“Wait! I didn’t give you the money.” Alex handed John the small wad of cash. “This was all I could find. I’m sorry. Do you, uh, want the sandwich?” He offered sheepishly.

John grinned again, and Alex felt a warm feeling in his chest. He took the money from Alex’s hand. “No, thanks, I think I can live without the sandwich. Thanks for the money, though. See you later,” he said, even though he was aware that they’d likely never see each other again. John rested his hand on the doorknob when he was stopped by Alex yet again.

“Hold on, do you have a phone or something? Just so that if you ever need anything, or if something happens.” Alex didn’t want John to leave, he didn’t want the only person he’d actually had a conversation with in months to just leave him so soon.

John’s eyebrows shot up. “I have a phone, but Francis is always going through it. If he were to see something he didn’t like, it wouldn’t end well.” Alex frowned, not very fond of the way Francis was treating John. “But anyway,” John continued, “you can give me your number.”

“Cool.” Alex hurried back to his desk, ripping a piece of paper off a notepad and scrawling his phone number. He walked back to John and handed it to him. “It was nice meeting you, John. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” John smiled, examining Alex’s face. “Nice meeting you too, Alex.”

 With that, he left and shut the door gently behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I know it's been less than a day but I still wanted to write something :)  
> My head is aching but it's fucking done so


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frick, I'm late. Sorryyyyy. TW for abuse

It had been exactly a week since Alex’s encounter with John. Alex had, for some reason, expected his loneliness to go away, but it was still there, haunting him. Alex had gotten himself kicked out of the motel the day after John left by cursing at the manager for the poor quality of the building. He really hadn’t had a problem with the quality as his standards weren’t that high, but Alex felt angry for no reason and wanted some way to communicate his feelings.

 So, not for the first time, Alex had landed himself on the streets with only five dollars in his pocket that he had found on the sidewalk. There was a nice bench in a nearby park which he had been using as a bed for the past few days, and no one said anything to him, likely out of pity.

 Despite the fact that there was really no chance of John calling, Alex was having a hard time thinking about anything other than the boy. He was worried for John, very worried. Alex spoke to Francis just once and he was terrified. He couldn’t imagine working for someone as intimidating as him. But Alex knew there was nothing he could do. If John was in real trouble, he would call. For now, all he could do was wait.

  
John shivered and sat down on his bed, looking around at the walls of the apartment Francis had been kind enough to share with him. Francis was out at some bar, so he had some time to himself. His mind wandered to the events of last week when he had seen Francis after the whole thing with Alex. Francis had not been happy.

  _“What the hell is this?” Francis snarled, snatching the money from John’s hand. “Where the fuck were you? Do you realize how many potential clients I got and had to turn down because of your bullshit?” He started counting the money, and John’s heart stopped when Francis’ face fell._

  _“Twenty-five dollars.” Francis laughed - a horrible sound laced with venom. He grabbed the front of John’s shirt and pulled him so close that their noses were almost touching. John’s stomach was in a thousand knots. “You’re fucking lucky, you know that? You’re lucky as hell that I’m not about to bash your skull in. If this happens again, you’re dead. Understood?”_

  _“Yes. Understood. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” John forced all the fear out of his voice._

  _“Good.” John’s shirt was released and immediately a loud smack reverberated around the room. It took John a moment to realize that Francis had slapped him. “I only do this because I love you, John. I’d do anything for you.” His words were snakes, wrapping around John’s neck and restricting his air flow. He couldn’t breathe._

  _“I know,” John was pretty sure his lungs were filling with water. “I love you too. I’m thankful for all you’ve done for me.”_

  _A kiss was pressed to John’s forehead. “I’m going out. Stay here, I’ll be back.”_

 John exhaled and wrapped his arms around himself. He knew he should leave Francis, but he couldn’t. No one else would be willing to put up with him. No one else would do for him what Francis had.

 But there was one person that just wouldn’t leave his mind. Alex. John knew he should be mad at Alex but he couldn’t make himself feel anything negative towards him. John knew that Alex wasn’t trying to hurt him. He had good intentions.

 He sighed, deciding that he had had enough thoughts for now. John stood up and walked to the kitchen counter where his phone was resting. It was a battered iPhone 5 that he’d owned for years but it still worked. He figured he was really lucky to have any phone at all, considering his less-than-ideal circumstances. He opened up some free music streaming app that he found a few weeks ago. It was a wonderful app and was one of John’s few ways of escaping reality for a while.

 A rare smile flickered on John’s lips when he clicked his playlist and the music filled the room. He had a soft spot for classical music, a genre that most people were surprised that someone like John enjoyed. He had been the subject of endless teasing about it from his sister, Martha (“John, any more of this and you’ll actually start growing white hairs,”). It had been a while since he saw her. He missed her so much. John recognized the piece that was playing immediately - Beethoven’s Violin Concerto.

There was something about classical music that really touched him - it was so complex and emotional, a quality that no other genre contained.

 John was forced out of his reverie by the sound of a door opening. He quickly shut off the music and turned around to see who it was. It was Francis, of course. He smirked when he saw John. There was something about Francis’ smile that really disquieted him.

 “Hey, baby. I got into a fight in the bar so I had to bail. What are you doing?” Francis sauntered over to John and abruptly plucked his phone from his hands. John eyed his face testily, taking note of the blossoming bruise near his eye. His heart clenched when he thought about another person he had met just a week ago who also had a bruise on his eye.

 “I was just listening to some music.”

 Francis’ eyebrows shot up as he continued to scroll through John’s phone. “The hell? _Beethoven?_ ” He scoffed and placed the phone back on the counter. “John, come on. I’m bored as fuck, let’s go to the bedroom.”

 John’s lip curled with distaste. He really wasn’t in the mood to do anything sexual, and Francis’ overuse of curse words made him even more disgusted. He would try to stop swearing from then on, he decided to himself.

 John stared at his feet, averting his eyes from Francis’. “No, I don’t want to right now. Later.” Even he was surprised at himself. He didn’t usually say no to Francis, there was no point as he never listened.

 Francis scoffed again, unamused. “Since when do you say no?” His hand curled around John’s wrist. “Come on, let’s go now,” he said, dragging John towards the bedroom.

 “No,” John said again, louder this time. “Stop. I don’t want to.” Beethoven was still playing in his head, the sound of the violin ringing in his ears, the sound of the orchestra coursing through his veins and giving him courage.

 “What makes you think you have a fucking choice?” Francis snarled, eyes flashing dangerously. “We spoke about this, baby. I don’t want you talking back to me.”

 The sound of Beethoven was accompanied by the vision of Alex - Alex and his warm smile, his huge eyes. “I don’t even know why I’m still here. I hate you.” John raised his head, looking Francis dead in the eyes. “I don’t need you. I can live without you.”

 Francis punched John so hard he fell backward and landed on his bottom. Another blow was landed to his stomach. He curled up on his side and covered his head with his arms. “Don’t you dare fucking say that. Don’t you _dare_. I saved your fucking life, you ungrateful little bitch.” Another painful strike - Francis had kicked John this time.

 “You wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for me-,” another kick, “you would have been dead on the streets within hours.” John couldn’t respond. “No one else would have taken you in. I _love_ you, John, why don’t you see that?”

 The punches and kicks went on for what felt like hours. But John didn’t make a sound, he didn’t let himself - because he knew that this would be the last time he was letting himself be controlled by Francis. He had memorized Alex’s phone number and decided it was time to use it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do yourself a favor and listen to this. And if you're impatient, don't listen to the whole thing. Just like. Ten minutes. It's majestic. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W8hQSMxa7gk  
> Music empowers, guys! Especially Beethoven :)  
> Yikes I played violin too hard like an epic gamer and my fingertips are red, sore, and peeling so this was hell to write. And now my eyes are hurting because I stared at my laptop for too long while writing this and some other articles.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter seemed a little half assed and short so I wrote a longer one. TW for implied rape. Poor John, Francis can go jump off a bridge.

John woke up the next morning with an aching body and a heavy chest. He rubbed his eyes as the memories of yesterday night flooded in. His gut churned as he took in the sight of a naked Francis laying next to him, reminding him of the events that took place after Francis had finished beating him. John wasn’t really surprised that Francis had forced himself onto him even after all that had happened - John standing up for himself, Francis punching and kicking the life out of him.

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t used to it.

But it didn’t matter - now he was fed up. He would call Alex today. John really didn’t know what he would get out of calling Alex, he knew that he was far from a hero and wouldn’t be able to swoop in and take John away from Francis, but he still felt as if calling him would do something, would get him out of the horrible cycle he was stuck in.

John must have woken Francis up too, as he groaned a little and covered his eyes with his forearm.

“Come back, baby. It’s too early for you to get out of bed.” He rolled over and planted a hand on John’s thigh. He must have noticed the way John stared at him, his expression one of disgust and hatred.

Francis sighed. “John, honey, look. I’m sorry about last night but it wouldn’t have happened if you had just listened to me. I had to, I’m sorry.” He leaned up to kiss John. “Someone texted last night after you fell asleep. I’ve got another client for you.”

John wanted to scream and cry and beat the shit out of Francis just like he did to him last night but he knew nothing would happen if he did. “Fine.” His throat felt dry. “Fine. What time?”

“Noon. It’s seven right now, we’ve got some time. John, hey. Look at me.” Francis put his hand on John’s cheek and forced him to face him. “Please, just tell me what’s wrong. You haven’t been acting the same since you came back from the last dude. Did he hurt you?”

John had to stop himself from scoffing. Here Francis was, acting like he hadn’t forced himself onto John and beaten him just last night and pretending to be concerned about John getting hurt. “No. He didn’t nothing, he was just a bit short on money, that’s why I didn’t have enough. He was fine. I’m fine.”

“Mm, whatever you say, baby. Make breakfast for me, would ya?” He kissed John again.

“Okay.” John got up off the bed, put on some sweatpants he found on the floor, and left. He prayed to a god he didn’t believe in that Francis wouldn’t get out of bed and sneak up on him in the kitchen. He was going to call Alex, he was sick of Francis and the shit he was forced to do.

John was relieved when he got to the kitchen - at least Francis hadn’t taken his phone. He looked back at the bedroom door worriedly and fiddled with his phone. Even though he knew Alex couldn’t do much for his situation, at least he would get some comfort. And the motel wasn’t very far away anyway.

After a few minutes of silently arguing with himself, John made up his mind. He would brush his teeth, get dressed, leave the apartment with nothing but his phone (he didn’t own much anyway) and run like hell. The park was only around three miles away, so he would go there to his favorite bench in his favorite part of the park and make the call. He wouldn’t be stuck with that bastard anymore. He would be free.

Of course, Francis chose that time to get out of bed.

“Baby? It’s been fifteen minutes, you haven’t started breakfast? What were you doing?”

John flinched at Francis’ voice. He hadn’t heard the door open. “I was. . . Uh. . .”

“You were on your phone? What were you doing on there? Were you talkin’ to someone?” John couldn’t read Francis’ expression. He hoped it wasn’t anger that caused his brow to furrow instead of confusion.

“I was. . . listening to music, Francis. I’m sorry, I got carried away. I’ll start making breakfast, just let me get dressed first.”

Francis kept staring at John in a way that made his skin crawl. “Sure.” John started to walk towards the bathroom with his phone in hand but was stopped by a hand on his wrist. “Nuh-uh, give me your phone.”

Screw it, John decided. He was leaving soon anyway. “What, you don’t trust me?” He asked Francis, pursing his lips.

Francis narrowed his eyes. “I trust you, baby. You’ve gotta watch that mouth of yours, though.” John’s phone was snatched out of his hand rather forcefully. “I want to see what you like so much about Beethoven, that’s all. Go get dressed.”

“Give me my phone.”

Francis’ expression was no longer hard to discern. It was very clear that John was pissing him off. “Why do you want to fucking fight me? What the hell has gotten into you anyway? What is this bullshit? When did you grow a spine?”

John was just as angry as Francis now and he was ready to start a yelling match, but he managed to calm himself down. “I’m not trying to start a fight. Just let me get dressed. Please, Francis.”

“Fucking. . . fine. Go get your shit together. I’m making breakfast because apparently you’re too busy with your dumbass music to do it.” Francis snarled, shoving John’s phone back into his hands. “Since when are you even into goddamn classical music? God, John, you’re really acting strange these days. You’re lucky I’m lettin’ you off the hook.”

John started walking but was grabbed by Francis yet again. “Put some effort into your appearance today, Johnny. This sucker’s rich as fuck, he might pay extra if you’re good for him.” He pinched John’s cheek a little too hard and pushed him towards the bathroom before strolling off to the kitchen.

John lifted his hand and rubbed the area that Francis had pinched. It was the same place that he had gotten decked on last night. He let out a long exhale and made his way to the bathroom.

When John looked into the mirror, for a moment he didn’t recognize the face he saw. It was a patchwork of bruises. His arms and torso were equally horrifying. There was more bruised skin than unharmed skin. John wanted to start bawling like a child for the second time that morning. He missed his mom, his sister, hell, he even missed Alex. He felt burning hatred towards his father, the son of a bitch, and Francis. John had thought he was safe after his father was done with him and kicked him out of the house, but boy, was he wrong. He was just so _angry,_ he just wanted to leave and get away from Francis and his father and meet up with his dear sister, his beautiful Martha and bring Alex along too and find some isolated island in the middle of the Atlantic where no one could ever reach them or hurt them and live there forever.

But John couldn’t. Not yet. He’d have to sort through the mess with Francis first. He sighed and looked at himself once more before grabbing his toothbrush. He was about to start brushing his teeth when he remembered that he had won the argument with Francis and had his phone with him. He smiled a little and fished it out of the pocket of his sweatpants.

John looked back at the door just to make sure it was locked and opened up the music app again. It was a wonder that Francis hadn’t deleted it by now. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes when the sound of the violin concerto that he had been listened to yesterday started playing. His smile grew and he shook his head at himself. _Not now,_ he told himself. _In the park._ He turned off the music.

John finished brushing his teeth and slipped on some jeans and a nice red jumper. It was warm and soft. Francis had gotten it for him a few weeks ago when he saw John shivering like crazy in a signature thin T-shirt. He combed his curls a bit and even put some gel on, something he usually never bothered to do. He looked at himself once again in the mirror, frowning slightly at the bruises. His critical staring session was cut short by a few loud and forceful knocks on the bathroom door.

“John, honey, I finished breakfast. Come on, I need to brush my teeth.” Francis knocked again.

John opened the door and was met by Francis, who had a painfully fake smile on his face. He was still angry. John knew how to tell by now. “Sorry for taking so long. Do I look okay? What do I do about the bruises?” He knew the bruises wouldn’t matter because he would be gone by noon but asked anyway.

Francis forced a sickening grin. “You look perfect, baby. The dude won’t mind bruises.” John figured that was Francis’ way of telling him that the man was a sadistic shit and John would probably have more bruises than before by the time he was finished. Too bad for Francis. John refused to tolerate any more of this. He was done. “Alright, come on, breakfast is waiting for you. I’ll join you in a minute.” He cupped John’s face in his large hands and kissed him on the lips.

John hurried over to the little coffee table by the window and examined the food. It was some poorly put together scrambled eggs and burnt toast. There was no orange juice or milk, just tap water from the sink. _Now’s_ _the time,_ a voice in his head told him. _Just run._

John anxiously looked back at the bathroom door. He could hear the sink running. John could run now, he had time.

Fuck it.

He ran to the front door where his sneakers were thrown haphazardly along with some other shoes that belonged to Francis. He patted his pockets just to make sure he had his phone and grabbed his sweater off the couch. Just as he was putting on his shoes, John heard the sound of the bathroom door creaking open. “John?” Francis’ voice echoed through the small apartment. “Where the hell did you go?” John could hear the anger in his voice. His stupid sneakers were hard as hell to put on, probably because John got them more than three years ago.

Francis turned and his face darkened when he saw John. He didn’t storm over and beat the hell out of him like John had expected. Instead, he actually smiled a little. It made his expression even more unnerving. “Where’re you goin’, baby?” The smile left as soon as it came. “Are you leaving me?” Francis actually looked as if he was about to cry. John was frozen, he couldn’t move. “After everything I’ve done for you? I save your life, I give you a roof over your head, I give you the love you’ve never had, and this is how you repay me.” John had noticed a little too late how Francis was inching closer to him. _Screw him._ John shoved his feet into his sneakers and flings the door open, ready to sprint out, when he feels a cold and large hand grab his skinny arm so tight he was sure it would leave a bruise. “Listen here, you little-“

That was when John caught sight of his neighbor, Aaron, in the hallway of the apartment building, holding a basket of laundry. Right in front of him and Francis, staring with wide eyes. _God bless you, Aaron. I love you_. John felt giddy. He never had got the chance to actually talk to Aaron. Well, he never got the chance to socialize as he really only left the apartment when Francis had a client for him, but he had never been more thankful for a stranger in his life.

“Aaron! Hey! Didn’t we have plans for today? We were going to grab some dinner at that new place!” John looked longingly into Aaron’s big eyes, hoping he would get the hint.

“Uh. . .” Aaron spluttered, his eyes flitting towards the bruises on John’s face and the death grip Francis had on his arm. “Yeah! Yeah, I remember. Come, let’s go.” He stared at Francis expectantly, waiting for him to let go of John.

John heard an almost inaudible whisper of, “If I ever see you again, you’re dead,” from Francis and he was shoved out of the doorway. The door slammed in his face and John thought he would faint with relief.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry about that, it’s not your problem and you have somewhere to be, I’m so sorry!” John gushed, color rising into his face. He had just realized that Aaron might have been busy or heading somewhere.

Aaron smiled at John’s ranting. “Don’t worry about it. Are you okay? You don’t look too hot.”

“Yes, I’m fine. Great, actually. Thank you so much.” John almost giggled with relief. He would have been dead by now if it weren’t for Aaron.

“Really, don’t mention it. Do you live with Francis? I’ve never seen you around. Your name is John, right? Francis has mentioned you.” Aaron’s smile grew.

John was about the respond, but he was cut off by a loud bang from Francis’ apartment. “Yeah, that’s me. I used to live here. I’m leaving now. I can’t live with him, he’s a monster,” John confessed.

Aaron’s grin dwindled. “Oh. I’m sorry. Where are your things, though? I thought you were moving out.”

“I am moving out, but I don’t have anything in there that I need. Just a few T-shirts, nothing I can’t live without. He never bought me anything. Sorry, now I’m imposing my problems onto you. I’ve gotta go now. I owe you my life, thank you again!” Aaron probably didn't understand his rambling, but he knew that if he had stayed a moment longer he would have been dead.

With that, John raced out of the apartment towards the park.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really should organize my updating schedule. Thing is, whenever I get the impulse to write, I WRITE. That'd be why this is the second time I've published two chapters in a day, and there are only four chapters in this fic, lol. And when I don't want to write as much as I usually do (I need a lot of motivation), I worry that my chapters won't have enough effort so I just opt for not writing at all. Anyway, again, if you haven't listened to the Beethoven Violin Concerto, D O I T !!!!! But listen to the David Oistrakh recording, his violin sings like a bird! Here's the link again https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W8hQSMxa7gk&t=5s 
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos, I know it's not much but it means a lot. Have no mercy in the comments pls. K bye <333


	5. Chapter 5

John could breathe.

For the first time in so, so long he could inhale deeply and not feel as if he wasn’t getting enough air, as if he was drowning.

He almost collapsed the moment he left the apartment building, getting a weird look from people passing by. But he couldn’t make himself care. He was _free._ The word itself sounded like music, like Beethoven’s masterpieces.

But John knew he couldn’t stop there - he needed to get the hell away from Francis once and for all, but he just couldn’t leave the area without saying _something_ to Alex. Sure, Alex was the reason John had to undergo a rough slap and a nice message from Francis warning him that he was close to getting his skull bashed in, but he was also the reason why John had enough strength to stand up for himself.

John took out his phone and was greeted by a single chilling message by Francis. _This isn’t over, baby,_ it read. _You’re lucky as fucking hell._ It was a reminder for him to snap back to reality and get going towards the park. It wouldn’t take him that long - it was around 8:30, so he would be there in under an hour even if he walked. Despite the fact that he was on the run from someone who could easily snap his neck with one movement, he didn’t want to call an Uber or a cab. He wanted to enjoy his first walk, the first walk he was taking, officially free of Francis.

John began to feel a bit cold, so he tugged his sweater on and shoved his hands into his pockets when he felt some kind of wire inside his left pocket. He pulled it out and _holy hell,_ this was the first time John was feeling something positive in months and it felt like heaven. 

Earbuds. John could cry. Now he could listen to Beethoven, Chopin, Ravel, Mozart, Tchaikovsky, Bach, or whoever the hell he wanted in peace. As he walked he opened the music app, plugged his earbuds in, and his heart soared as the sound of Beethoven’s Violin Concerto filled his ears.

It didn’t take John very long to get to the park - only around thirty minutes. Apparently it was closer than he thought. Or maybe time just flew by because of his precious music app and earbuds.

But after only a few minutes of searching, he finally found his bench, and - _What the actual hell?_

There laid the great Alexander John-didn’t-know-his-last-name on John’s bench, the exact bench that he had been planning to sit on and call Alex on.

Alex was deep in sleep, his mouth open and a curl on his forehead floating up with every exhale. Why was he sleeping on a bench? Did he get kicked out of the hotel?

It was a fairly remote part of the park, so John felt no shame charging up to Alex and shaking him roughly. He refused to wait for any answers. He needed them now.

“The fuck?” Alex mumbled groggily. Hearing him curse was so much different from when John heard Francis curse.

“Get up, I have way too many questions. It’s John. Come on, get up, I’ll let you sleep later.”

Alex’s eyes widened and his face flushed with realization. “ _John?_ The fuck?” He repeated.

“Yeah, it’s John. God, get up!”

“Fine, f- holy shit, what the hell happened to your face?” Alex sat up quickly, eyes widening even more with concern. John figured he would have to get used to Alex’s dirty mouth.

“Alright, remember how I told you that Francis would kill me? He wasn’t happy with me. But it wasn’t just your fault, I did some stupid stuff too,” John explained, sitting down at the bench next to Alex and staring at the ground. “He beat me. And, uh. . . some other stuff. It’s not important. Why are you sleeping on a bench?”

Alex’s face fell. “Why didn’t you call me?”

John shrugged, deciding not to bring up that fact that there really wasn’t much that Alex could have done for him at the time. “I couldn’t, Francis would catch me. So I ran. Here I am.” He looked at Alex pointedly. “You didn’t answer my question. Why are you sleeping on a bench?”

“For fun,” Alex shot back dryly before elaborating after spotting the cold glare John was shooting him. “I got kicked out of the motel. Started yelling at the manager about his dirty-ass building and how he should start giving a shit about the quality of it and he demanded my key because otherwise he would call the police on me.”

“Oh,” John bit his lip. “That was dumb. How long have you been here?”

“Got the boot a day after I met you. I found this bench after a few hours of wandering. How’d you know I was here?”

“I didn’t. I just usually used to come to this bench when I was stressed or wanted to relax.”

They shared a pregnant moment of silence until, of course, Alex had to break it.

“So, uh. . . what now?”

“I don’t know. I had this grand idea of coming to this bench and calling you so we could get the hell out of here - you seemed pretty lonely so I didn’t want to leave you alone - but I never thought about where I would go.”

Alex smiled to himself, secretly pleased that John had been thinking about him. “We’re in Harlem right now. I might have some friends down in Upper West Side. If you’re willing to we can go. Together.”

John stared at his feet once again, his face turning red out of shame. He really had not thought this out. “I have a thing where. . . I don’t. . . really. . . trust as easily, I guess. I’m sorry. Could you, uh, tell me a bit about your friends and yourself, maybe?”

Alex beamed, happy that he finally got to really get to know someone for the first time in forever. “That’s totally cool. Don’t apologize. Uh, well, you already know that my full first name is Alexander, but everyone calls me Alex. My last name is Hamilton, I don’t really care if you know because you seem pretty fucking harmless. I was going to King’s College, major in Political Science, funded by my foster dad, but we had an argument so he basically cut off all ties with me. That’s how I ended up like this.” Alex didn’t seem to have much of a problem spewing personal details. “I really love writing and reading. Damn, it’s been a while since I settled down and read a good book. I was born in Nevis, this unknown island in the Caribbean. I had to move here though, there was a horrible hurricane and it shit all over the island.” Alex laughed without humor.

“Alex, that’s. . .” John was speechless.

“Eh. I got through it. But anyway, I guess that’s enough about me. I’ll tell you the rest later, I left out a lot of shit. My friends are called - don’t laugh - Hercules and Lafayette. They were my college buddies.”

John had to bite his lip so he could stop himself from giggling. “La-fa-yette? Is he French? And _Hercules?_ ” Even though John was poking fun at his friends, Alex was happy to see that he had calmed down a bit. Alex really had no problem with John’s trust issues, he understood why he had them anyway.

“Oh, hush. They’re awesome, it’s been way too long since I spoke to them. Herc is so good at sewing it’s almost scary and Laf has insane photography skills. Laf demands that everything be spotless, while Herc is one of the messiest fuckers I’ve ever met. They get along really well, though. I can even call them in front of you so you can see what they’re like.”

 

“That’s fine, you don’t need to. They seem nice. Thank you for telling me so much, it really isn’t even my business. I. . . I’ll have to think about it, but thank you so much. This is the nicest anyone has been to me in a while.”

Alex was reminded of Francis the dickhead and his mouth twisted. “It’s no problem, really, but now you have to tell me your story. You can leave out the bits you don’t want to relive or talk about like I did, but like, the general story.”

“I really don’t want to relive any of it. I’ll tell you soon, I promise. Sorry.”

Alex chuckled. “John, you need to stop apologizing. It’s _fine._ If you don’t want to share your story, can you at least tell me some of your interests?” Alex really was enjoying this - his first real and genuine conversation in what felt like centuries.

John smiled. “Yeah, I can. Well, I’ve always loved art and drawing. I used to win every local competition, even though my dad didn’t approve of my interest in it. This probably sounds weird but I also really love classical music. It’s just -“

Alex was smiling from ear to ear. “Another classical music fan? Hell yeah!” He whooped. “You are the only other person I’ve met in real life who also likes classical. Who’s your favorite composer?”

John grinned, a new feeling in his chest. “Beethoven, of course. The best composer. Composing is one thing, but composing something as otherworldly and stunning at his 9th Symphony while _deaf_ is just. . . unfathomable. I also really like Ravel and Debussy. Their music is so dreamy and beautiful.”

Alex scrunched up his face. “Beethoven was _not_ the best composer. Bach was. But anyway, my favorite is Chopin. The poet of the piano. His ballades and waltzes and mazurkas are so emotional and sublime! I do agree with you on Ravel and Debussy, though. They’re among my favorites. What’s your favorite piece, then?”

“Beethoven’s Violin Concerto,” John said immediately. “It’s been there for me through so much. Beethoven really was a genius. And Bach was a big dude who drank a lot of coffee and wrote cantatas for his twenty kids. He’s not the only guy who can compose a fugue. Although his Chaconne for violin is beautiful, too. What about you?”

“Chopin’s Ballades, duh. Especially number four. It’s so deep, it’s crazy that a human had the ability to write something like it. Number one is also amazing - the coda gets me everytime. Don’t go insulting my man Bach - Beethoven wasn’t perfect either, he fuckin’ ransacked his own apartment because he lost one coin and even wrote and angry-ass piece about it.”

“So? Beethoven was known for his temper. Bach wasn’t that special. Mozart’s five part counterpoint at the end of the Jupiter was better than any fugue he could compose.”

Alex snickered. “You’re just one of the _I think Bach is boring_ normies.”

John’s mouth fell open. “Am not!”

They laughed together, and both boys realized at the same time that this was the happiest they had felt in a while. John had been able to forget, even if it was just for a few minutes, and Alex had been able to _finally_ talk to someone and socialize with them.

They stayed at the bench for around half an hour longer, laughing and talking as if they were long-time friends before John was reminded of the situation he was actually in. Francis wasn’t very far away and likely was well aware that this part of the park was where John used to go for comfort. But he was too busy chatting with Alex to actually get up and even just go to a different and more populous part of the park.

After a while of Alex shifting around in his seat uncomfortably while him and John conversed, he finally said, “Hey, John, there’s a bathroom just around the corner and I really needta use it. I’ll be back soon.” He scurried off after seeing John smile and nod.

As much as John loved talking to Alex, he was glad he finally got some time to his own thoughts. (He was even a little surprised at himself, as this was the first time John was happy to be left to his own mind.) He was too deep in his own pensiveness to notice some rustling in the bushes. He just continued to speculate on his situation with Alex, with Francis, with everyone.

“John.” Francis’ familiar voice cut through John’s thoughts like a knife. He was standing right behind John, arms crossed. John flinched so hard he almost dropped his phone, which he had been fidgeting with anxiously.

“Damn, if you were trying to get away from me at least choose a place we haven’t fuckin’ been to _together._ ” Two large hands were placed on John’s shoulders. John didn’t dare move, he was even holding his breath. “Baby, I just want to talk. I won’t hurt you. C’mon, speak to me. Why did you run even when you know I love you?” When John didn’t respond, he continued. “I’ve done so much for you. I saved you. How many times’re you gonna make me remind you? Just come back, I’ll never hurt you again.”

Tears had gathered in John’s eyes. He knew that he wouldn’t have been alive if it weren’t for Francis. Francis’ face was now resting on John’s shoulder, inches away from his own face so he could clearly see that John was crying. “You don’t have to cry. Just come with me, we’ll talk in our apartment.” He pressed a kiss to the side of John’s neck. Tears were streaming down John’s face at that point. “I’ll even make you pancakes, how long has it been since we had those?”

John still didn’t say a word. His throat had closed up completely. “C’mon, answer me, John. I’m telling you, I won’t hurt you. Just come on.” John opened his mouth a little, hoping to somehow find his voice and respond, but a very distinct voice rung through the cold park air before he could say anything.

“Yo, John, I found a weird-as-shit flower on my way back from the ba - _oh._ ”

John’s head snapped to Alex, who was gawking at the scene in front of him with a red flower John recognized as a firespike in his hand.

Before John could start explaining, Francis’ hands tightened harshly on his shoulders. John winced at the crack he heard. “Is _this_ why you were fuckin’ acting off? You were cheating on me with this fucker?” His voice was stable but somehow it was even scarier than it would be if he was yelling. Before John could blink, suddenly Francis was in front of him and his hands were wrapped around his neck loosely. “Huh? Is it true? Fucking _speak_ , John.”

John could hear Alex’s uncertain footsteps, even though he didn’t have the audacity to move his head to look at him. “Hey, he wasn’t cheating on you with me. Just let go of him and we’ll both explain.” The flower was on the floor, abandoned.

Francis ignored Alex, increasing the amount of pressure on John’s neck instead. “I’ll kill you,” he said, voice almost inaudible. There was no way Alex could hear it. “Speak to me or I’ll fucking snap your neck right now.”

“I. . .” John licked his lips. He hated how croaky and small he sounded. “I wasn’t cheating on you.” For a moment all John could hear was his mother’s voice, Beethoven’s violin, all he could see was Alex’s warm eyes. “I left because you’re a psycho. You’re crazy.” John lifted his hands and with a sudden burst of strength shoved Francis’ hands off him. Before Francis could do anything else, John pulled his fist back and punched him right in the eye. While Francis was still in shock, he started sprinting towards the center of the park, grabbing Alex’s arm and dragging him along.

“Holy shit,” he could hear Alex pant while they ran. “Holy fuckin’ -” he wheezed, “shit.”

John didn’t know how long they ran. It felt like hours, but they finally stopped when Alex doubled over, breathing heavily. They were far past the park and were now on some street that John didn’t recognize. At least there were a lot of people.

“You better give me one fucking hell of an explanation, John.” Alex didn’t sound that angry, just pretty worried.

“I will, promise.” John’s face was blank again, just as it was when him and Alex had first met. The tears on his face were dried and cold. “Are there any buses nearby? We’re going to Upper West Side.”

Alex grinned, despite their unfortunate situation. “Whatever you say, boss."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is longer than usual, I know. I was planning to split it up but I didn’t. And about all the music talk (counterpoints, fugues, all that jazz), I know not everyone is into that stuff so I won’t bring it up very often. Promise. I just wanted to kinda show how Alex and John were bonding over classical.


	6. Chapter 6

Alex didn’t know what the hell he had gotten himself into. But whatever it was, at least he wasn’t alone anymore. He had John, and John was away from Francis.

Once they had gotten into the bus safely (the $5 Alex had was enough for two tickets), Alex was ready to start bombarding John with questions but he stopped himself when he realized how incredibly exhausted John looked.

The moment John sat down, he dropped his head into his hands dejectedly and let out a long and loud sigh. Alex just stared at him dumbly until he noticed that John’s shoulders were shaking and he was letting out quiet little sobs.

“Woah, hey, John, what’s wrong?” Alex moved to put an arm around him for comfort but pulled his hand back when he saw him flinch. “Sorry,” Alex said guiltily. “Is it Francis?”

“Yeah,” John managed, his voice barely perceptible. “It is.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex said again. “You had to leave him, there was no other option.”

“Yes, there was.” John let out a small sob. “I could have dealt with it instead of being a coward and running. You don’t know how much he’s done for me, he saved my life.”

“If he really cared about you, you wouldn’t have those bruises.”

John started to sob harder in response, and all Alex could do was stare at him. “He did care for me. I don’t understand why. . . “ John trailed off. “When we first met, he was amazing to me. It’s my fault. He started hitting me and forcing himself onto me and making me sleep around for money because I wasn’t good to him. None of this would have happened if I was - ” he was cut off by Alex.

“John, no. Jesus fucking Christ. You did nothing. How did you even end up with him in the first place?” Alex knew he shouldn’t have asked that question since John was already upset but he couldn’t help himself.

John raised his head and smoothed his hair back. He looked tired and distressed but there was something different about the way he carried himself compared to when Alex had first seen him. “I. . . well, my father kicked me out when I came out to him and I had nowhere to go. It was three in the morning and I was wandering around the streets of Charleston.” He sniffled. “Francis found me and offered a place to stay. He seemed very trustworthy and I was desperate so I agreed and he took me back to a goddamn travel trailer. It was suspicious but I didn’t complain. After a while he. . . he asked me out to dinner. He didn’t have much money so it was some really cheap food but after that he believed we were officially together.” There was a beat of silence before he continued. “And then after a few weeks of dating he said he got a job offer in Harlem and asked me to move there with him. I really liked him so I said yes. So we did, and only a few days after we arrived in Harlem he hit me for the first time after we got into an argument. I wanted to work at a local restaurant as a waiter but he insisted on being the only money maker in the relationship. He was crying and asking me to forgive him the morning after but things kind of - ,” his voice cracked, “went downhill from then on.”

Alex was silent for a minute, stunned. “That’s. . . my God. I’m so sorry, John, you don’t deserve that. How old were you?”

John screwed up his face. “I was seventeen when I met him and started dating him, two years ago. He was somewhere in his thirties, I don’t remember the exact age.”

“That’s not legal. He should be in jail.”

“I know. It’s not the only illegal thing he’s done.” It was clear that John didn’t want to elaborate, so Alex didn’t press for once even though his mind was buzzing with questions. “Well, now that I’ve told you all of this, why don’t you tell me your full story?” John wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve and smiled wanly, making eye contact with Alex for the first time since they’d gotten in the bus. It was a twenty minute trip, and half of it was already over.

Alex sighed. “You just told me how you met Francis, not the full story. But yeah, I guess I owe it to you. I was born in Nevis, as I already told you. My dad left when I was born so it was just me and my mom. We didn’t have much money but we were happy, really happy. The schools there were awful so my mom just taught me how to read herself. She started reading Shakespeare to me when I was just eight and even though I didn’t understand a lot of it I loved it anyway. She said it would remind me to stay human even if I was surrounded by wild animals.”

“Like in Brave New World.”

Alex smiled, pleasantly surprised that John was a reader. “Yeah, like in Brave New World. I never understood what she meant by that as a kid and it really pissed me off. But anyway, things were the same until I turned twelve. We both got really sick with some fever that usually wasn’t fatal.” He looked at his lap, tears welling up in his eyes. “I lived and she didn’t.”

“I. . . I know how it feels. I’m sorry.” John reached out and covered Alex’s hand with his own.

Alex’s heart swelled at the gesture and he managed a weak smile. “I’ve still got Shakespeare though, yeah? I was sent to live with my cousin because my bastard dad still didn’t step in to claim me. My cousin wasn’t particularly kind to me, but he gave me what I needed. I was barely home anyway, I spent most of my time at the library. But one night when I came home from the library for dinner he wasn’t in the kitchen so I went to his room and he. . . uh. . .” Alex squeezed his eyes shut. “He was hanging from a rope.” John said nothing but his grip on Alex’s hand tightened. “So I got sent to work at an import-export firm and I was basically running the place by fourteen. I knew I had to work hard to get off that fuckin’ island so I did, I wrote this essay and it landed me a ticket to New York. I was only fifteen when I got here so I got stuck in the system. I was lucky as hell though, even though my foster dad cut off all ties with me - which is why I’m on the streets - he was still a good parent. And, uh, yeah. That’s basically it.”

John frowned at the floor, removing his hand from Alex’s, much to Alex’s disappointment. “Here I am, crying over Francis, when you had it so much worse.” He scoffed at himself. “I’m sorry that I got you stuck in my mess.” 

Alex giggled. “I would’ve gotten stuck in some mess one way or the other, so don’t apologize. God, John, seriously, stop apologizing for nothing! And even if I did have it worse than you, it doesn’t matter. Everyone has problems, and how bad they are doesn’t depend on how bad other people’s problems are.”

John exhaled through his nose with a smile. “Thanks. For everything, I guess.” They sat in a comfortable silence which was broken only a minute later by the brake of the bus and the sound of people getting up out of their seats and chattering.

“Our stop is here.” Alex stood up and stretched, John doing the same. “Laf’s number is somewhere in the notes on my phone. I’ll find it when we get off.”

They walked off the bus together, the driver giving John a strange look likely because of the bruises. But he couldn’t make himself care - at least he was free now. 

Alex and John settled down in a surprisingly uncrowded McDonalds after around five minutes of walking. 

“You want anything to eat?” Alex asked John as they slid into a booth in the corner of the restaurant. John raised his eyebrows in response. 

“You have money?” 

Alex’s face flushed. “Shit, I just remembered. Yeah, I have a dollar left. Buuuut. . .” He glanced at the menu that was on their table. “We can afford hash browns.”

John pouted a little. Actually pouted. “You really have a problem with spending money. First it was the sandwiches -“

“Hey, I’m impulsive, deal with it. You want ‘em or no?” Alex could detect a trace of a smile on John’s face. 

“No. I’m not hungry.”

Alex scoffed. “What, too cultured for McDonalds, John. . . hey, I just realized that you never told me your last name. If you’re not comfortable, that’s fine too.”

“I’ll tell you my last name later. Could you find your friend’s number now?”

Alex grinned, deciding that a little teasing wouldn’t do any harm. “I bet it’s Smith.”

John huffed. “Fine, I’ll tell you. Laurens. Happy now?” He warily stared at Alex’s face, trying to gauge his reaction. He silently prayed that Alex wouldn’t recognize the surname, as his father was a senator and his last name was quite well known. 

“Ooh. John Laurens. I like it.” Alex’s grin grew, and John let out a small sigh in relief. He didn’t recognize the name. “I’ll try to find Laf’s number now. Fucking hell, I really should sort through my notes. . .” He appeared to be typing and tapping his phone furiously. A few moments passed before the furrow of Alex’s brow eased and he grinned. 

“Found it!” He exclaimed. “Alright. . . here goes nothing.” John could hear Alex dial some numbers before he pressed the phone to his ear. “He better pick up. . . Oh! Hey, Laf! It’s Alex, remember me?” His grin widened at John as Lafayette responded. John couldn’t hear the other side of the call but Alex looked happy enough.

“I’ll tell you everything later, Laf. Je te dirai tout plus tard. God, it’s great to hear from you again. Hey, do you mind if a friend and I crash at your and Herc’s place for a while? Dad’s still not very happy with me.” John smiled to himself at Alex’s bluntness, but he never knew Alex spoke French. He decided to ask him about it later.

“Chill, Laf. His name is John, he’s not my boyfriend” (John found himself blushing at the word boyfriend), “and you can trust him. He just needs a place to stay, he’ll be gone once he’s sorted through everything.” Oh. So Alex wanted him gone. “Thank you so much. We’re already in Upper West Side, we caught a bus here, so we shouldn’t be very far away from your place. Yes, I know your address. Je t’aime, enculé. Tell Herc we’re coming. See you soon!” Alex removed the phone from his ear. “We’re going to Laf’s place, fuck yeah! I swear, you’ll love him and Herc, they’re awesome - “

“Alex, are you sure? I don’t want to intrude or cause them any trouble. I’ll find a place to stay on my own, you don’t have to do all of this for me.” Alex’s face crumpled at John’s response.

“What? John, no. You’re coming with me. Hell, you’re the reason I even called Laf. I know it didn’t seem like it but I was worried that he would hate me or some shit. That’s why I never reached out to him or Herc earlier,” Alex confessed. The corners of John’s lips slightly tugged upwards in response. 

“I’m sorry, I just. . . don’t want to bother anyone else.”

Alex beamed his signature cheeky grin. “You won’t bother jack shit, buddy. Laf and Herc will be too busy pestering each other to care, even if you’re the noisiest and most annoying person to ever live.”

John’s smile brightened. “Are they? I don’t know about Hercules but Lafayette seems friendly enough.”

“Mm. They’re amazing, God, did I miss them. You wanna get going now? I don’t know how far we are from their place, so it’s best if we do. I have his address, we can get a taxi.”

John stood up and slid out of his chair, nodding. “This better be worth it. Let’s go.”

John only realized how light his chest felt after they left the restaurant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one cares but shits been goin on irl and it sucks balls so I kinda had to force myself to write this  
> I wrote this on Google Docs on my phone so chill if you see typos. Like always I have no guarantee for when the next update will be but if you actually like this mess I’m sorry about the weird as hell update schedule. I’ll try for it to be within the next week.   
> Also this is irrelevant but I’ve been studying philosophy like the Advanced Human that I am and Sartre was on some strong ass weed so go check him out. I wanna read Nausea so bad but no local libraries have it rn so I have to wait. Return your library books you goofs :(

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!! I was bored af so I decided to write something. Let me know if you liked the fic and want me to continue it, I have some plans for it. The title is horrible, please comment a better one if you come up with it lol
> 
> Also, can you guess which book I got the inspiration from?


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